Stampeding Emotions
by MatchPlay
Summary: Brutus is plunged into death, confusion, and more death.  Directly tied with the play.  Chapter one: Caesar/Brutus.  Chapters two and three: Cassius/Brutus. Chapter four will contain  cannon  character death.  Chapter four shall be the final chapter.
1. Et tu, Brute?

**Stampeding Emotions**

Warning: warped views of classic literature, homosexuality, major spoiler for Julius Caesar, et cetera.  
>Disclaimer: Don't even.<br>This should go along with the plot, though the dialogue is mostly changed, words in **bold**are directly from the play, but the rest will be my own. So, without further ado:

* * *

><p>(Act Three, Scene One)<p>

"**Et tu, Brute****?**" came a whisper from Caesar's paling lips, Brutus' knife still freshly within his heart.

'I apologise, sweet Caesar, for my hands know not what they do, only that they must. And my heart shouts in pain for what could have been, and for what will,' thought Brutus, unable to speak.

"**Then fall Caesar**," the the final words of the near-king.

'Why must you say words as such? As if only my blade could stop breath from touching those lips? As if you might endure Hell before being killed by another?' Anguish marked Brutus' features before being replaced by a masque of false apathy.

"**Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!**" cried Cinna.

Passer-bys saw blood pooling beneath their ruler and cried murder, doomsday.

Brutus could handle the blood, he wasn't weak; but when it came to Caesar's lifeless eyes, his lover's unmoving lips, he almost retched at the sight.

Yet he couldn't. He couldn't retch in fear, or cry in sadness. He could only stare blankly and attempt a straight face. The show must go on, he had to carry on.

The people wanted to hear from him, so he spoke. Caesar never wanted anyone but Calphurnia to know of their relationship, so Brutus lied for him. "**Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more****.**" Bah, what a load of horse dung. Rome could go to Hell for all he cared, he's fighting for... For what? He didn't even know. Were his actions rash? Acting like a boy who didn't want his crush known, so he hurts him? Why did Brutus listen to the scheming man, Cassius, when all he wanted to do was kill his lover?

Pondering this while attempting to keep a straight face, Mark Antony finished his speech and a crowd was soon to be after him and the other Conspirators. He fled Rome for the relative safety of the battlefield.

* * *

><p>There will be a part two taking place in Act Four, Scene Three, but that will be CassiusBrutus.

Also, in case you weren't blissfully/obsessively aware as I am: Shakespeare was gay. You can tell by reading the sonnets (especially 20).

R&R?


	2. Is it come to this?

**Stampeding Emotions**

Warning: warped views of classic literature, homosexuality, major spoiler for Julius Caesar, et cetera.  
>Disclaimer: I AM POOR, ERGO, I OWN NOTHING. (thankyou)<br>This should go along with the plot, though the dialogue is mostly changed, words in **bold **are directly from the play, but the rest will be my own.

* * *

><p>(Act Four, Scene Three)<p>

Cassius and Brutus are in the tent, fighting. They bicker back and forth, a cross between old enemies and old lovers.

"**Is it come to this?**" asked Cassius. "**You wrong me every way. You wrong me, Brutus. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me**, even _he_ wouldn't dare anger me!"

Brutus shushed him, "**Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him. For your life you durst not.**"

"**Do not presume too much upon my love.** Don't make me do that which I shall regret."

"I but asked a favour, and you refused me." Brutus sat upon the ground, thumbing a stray rock, playing with its features and staring at it intensely so as to not look at Cassius.

"...**I denied you not**," he spoke barely above a whisper.

"I denied you not," Brutus mocked, a loud, joyless laugh following it. "But **you did**," he breathed, and Cassius was almost unsure of whether he had heard it.

"**I did not.** I would never, and it is foolish of you to believe such. **Brutus hath rived my heart. You love me not,**" Cassius stared straight ahead, expression hardened.

"**I do not like your faults.**"

"My flaws are lain out for the world that which I grow weary of." He pulls out a dagger, gleaming harshly in the light. "**I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. Strike, as thou didst at Caesar. For I know when thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better than ever thou lovedst Cassius.**" Cassius collapses to his knees before Brutus.

Brutus drops the rock and holds both of Cassius' hands in his own, dagger pricking him, but he did not notice.

"**Sheathe your dagger. ** You are a fool - too ill-tempered to mean what you say." Cassius let the weapon fall to the ground and Brutus tossed it away from reach. "Do not speak of Caesar, he is dead and matters not," Brutus tried to convince himself more than the man before him.

Cassius found himself staring at Brutus' hands holding his own. "Thou'st bleed." He grabbed the hurt hand as one would a maiden's, and kissed it on the wound, staring into the other's eyes.

Brutus grew red and withdrew his hand. "Caesar is gone. You are all that is left."

"**Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.**"

Brutus obliged, "**And my heart, too.**"

Cassius pulled Brutus closer, both unsure but willing.

**Cassius and Brutus kiss**(1).

* * *

><p>1) This is actually in the original copy of the play, but most versions replace it with hugging or shaking hands.<br>This chapter was much more difficult, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.  
>The next and final chapter will be of Act Five, Scenes Three and Five.<p> 


	3. Believe not so

**Stampeding Emotions  
><strong>Warning: warped views of classic literature, homosexuality, major spoiler for Julius Caesar, et cetera.  
>Disclaimer: Because people don't live to be well over three hundred years old.<br>This should go along with the plot, though the dialogue is mostly changed, words in **bold **are directly from the play, but the rest will be my own.

* * *

><p>(Act Five, Scene One)<p>

"I once believed omens were false, but I have been finding myself trusting in them for the first time," Cassius said to Messala.

"**Believe not so** in such foolery," he replied.

"**I but believe it partly**."

Brutus enters, odd gleam in his eye. Uncertain, yet determined.

"**Most noble Brutus, **if we were to lose today, we may never gain the occasion to speak to eachother. What would happen?" 'with us' he doesn't bother to add.

Brutus glares at the man before him. "Let the gods decide. Do not be a coward, 'Dear' Cassius."

Stinging his heart like not weapon could, the words forced him to look away. "If we lose, would you willingly be taken prisoner?"

"**No, Cassius, no**," Brutus reeled from his previous harshness. "I know not the future, or if we are to meet again. So accept this: **Forever and forever farewell, Cassius. **If we meet again, it will be with joy; and if not, it was not in the gods' will."

Cassius pauses, about to say something, but, in seeing Messala in the corner of his eye, stops himself and says what is expected in company. "Well? Go! How I wish to know the future, but I shall soon enough. Let us leave!"

* * *

><p>Okay, I lied. I added Act Five, Scene One to the fic because I think it - when warped - can be important to Cassius and Brutus' relationship. Did you see it? Perhaps it's a blink-and-miss...<br>I promise this time, the next and final chapter will take place in Act Five, Scenes Three and Five.


End file.
